The Legend of Dragoon: Black Resurrection
by Derek Leach
Summary: Sydney Opeth, the Crimson Shadow, travels to Lohan in order to find his long lost friend. Upon reuniting, they discover there's more to them than they could possibly know as they transform from ordinary to legendary. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**The Legend of Dragoon: Black Resurrection**

Prologue

_ I never knew that it would come to something like this. We had one chance to live peacefully, and all we've done as humans was destroy everything by destroying ourselves. The Gigantos were hunted to extinction by us! The Minitos have been driven out of human society and are rarely seen by anyone. It's all a struggle for power, gold, and the useful among the useless._

_ At one time I imagined my last breath would be peaceful, then I killed for the first time. We were nomads of Death's Frontier, the maze of a desert that was known to mentally topple a man before physically dying of dehydration. My parents died, in Mille Seseau I guess? It's been so long I've forgotten their faces, instead their replaced by the faces of my former tribesman and the elongated desert before us._

_ This stone, "the" stone; some call it a blessing, others call it a curse; an excuse to hunt the hunters, and become the predators. I found myself a part of a legend, a myth, a damn fairy tale doused in blood and burnt to ashes. That man…that man who gave me this stone, who was he? Why did it shine when I held it for the first time? For so many years I pondered what it was and why it waited so long to reveal itself. I was a Dragoon, clad in red armor with Soa's markings etched into the metal, and green wings protruding from my shoulder blades, I could finally rule the sky._

_ But my memories continued to haunt me, and this newfound power was the only thing that accompanied me in the darkness. Then others began to enter into the darkness giving me the idea that one day I would be able to escape the shadows and reach for the sun. But now I feel more alone than I've ever felt in my entire life. Battered and beaten to the point that I can barely walk, and my dragoon armor is nearly shattered to pieces. Dragoons were never meant to destroy each other. Maybe that bastard, Haven, was right. We were created to defend, not to be a simple trump card in a war of arrogance and pride._

_ I don't even remember the faces of the men that I killed, and in my head I hear explosions and screams of agony emanating from the innocents that were annihalated around me. The beautiful part is that right now I'm calm…warm…and approaching the end with a smile on my face._

-Sydney Opeth

The Red Eye Dragoon


	2. Chapter 2

**The Legend of Dragoon: Black Resurrection**

Chapter 1

Sydney awoke to the sound of wooden wheels, a complex trod of multiple hooves, and silent grumbles from the other passengers echoing through the carriage. It took a moment for his vision to blur into focus; a dark space crowded with people all headed for the same place he was, Lohan. Many knew of it as a haven for merchants and such, a place outside of the political nonsense, a city where five words were law "an eye for an eye". These people were most likely looking for opportunity, a way to escape just like he was.

Hitting a bump in the road the carriage shook violently waking up the rest of the passengers. A frightened boy clutched his mother's clothes as she gently rocked a cooing infant in her arms. Further down the same row, a bearded man leaned over popping his neck, and situating his satchel set loosely between his feet. Another gentleman seemed to be going through what looked like jars full of some unknown peculiarities, _a merchant maybe_? Sydney lowered his head and closed his eyes trying once again to sleep.

He breathed deeply sinking lower into the elongated bench. The only comfort he could find was by leaning forward and resting his face in his hands. Tired enough to ignore the aching pain in his lower back, he let his thoughts trail off to the unknown. He began to snore to the sound of music as it always did. It's what he loved the most in his life, something that had a beautiful harmony to coexist with his deadly, intricately detailed, melody.

Once again the carriage shuttered, only this time the left side of the carriage crashed to the ground causing everyone to jump out of their seats. The boy gripped his mother even tighter as she desperately tried to calm down the, now crying, infant. The once silent carriage was now filled with awkward and confused voices. Disgruntled, Sydney opened his eyes and listened to the heavy and somewhat hastened footsteps of the driver as he approached the back entrance to the caravan

The driver opened the wooden carriage door, "I'm pretty sure ya'll understand that I gotta' replace the wheel, we could be stuck here for around twenty minutes. So if you feel like gettin' out and stretchin' your legs, feel free to do so."

Sydney's brown leather boots crunched against the dry desert surface as he walked to a nearby cliff. Everything was covered in dust; his black pants bloused snugly in his boots, his dark flowing trenchcoat, even his once red studded leather armor had faded to a dank shade of brown. He glimpsed at his gauntleted hands, then stared off the edge of the small cliff overlooking the desert below. Barely making out the city of Lohan he sighed and lit himself a cigarette, feeling the smoke caress his slightly tanned skin, drawing tangled circles around the long strands of his white-blonde hair. His dark brown eyes flirted with the abyss of the iris in which it surrounded.

_I wonder if she's in Lohan?_ Sydney pondered to himself. He once again caught a glimpse of the valley below, _All the rumors pointed to this place, this has gotta' be it. But…are you still mad at me? Will seeing me now, the way that I am, change her opinion of me. _He buried his face in his hands, _Yeah right. But despite what she says I gotta' make this right._

"No! Why did you kill him?"

"I didn't mean to, I swear on Soa's grave I didn't mean to."

Sydney awoke to the screams of a woman in a fit of panic, "Don't kill my children, take me, TAKE ME! I _BEG _YOU!" Shooting up he noticed the near end of a brutal massacre, the victims, the passengers. This scene was all too familiar to the rugged traveler, he had grown up with it. An orphan at the age of seven he watched his parents die before his eyes. War between nomadic tribes wasn't uncommon in the desert continent of Death Frontier. Since then he had studied and perfected the art of the blade to kill those who would dare abuse their power. Especially bandits attacking poor travelers for the thrills and a bit of pocket change.

The woman reluctantly handed over the infant to it's older brother, and with tears in her eyes tried to reassure that everything would be fine. She wanted her son to run with his younger brother as fast as he could, maybe they could make it there had to be a chance. But either way, she didn't want her eldest son's mind stained with the foul images of what these men monsters would do to her. In the back of her mind she prayed, she prayed with everything to the creator that this would be quick and painless, that she wouldn't have to suffer, that her children would have a home, and they would be able to endure the hardships of growing up without her.

One of the six bandits grabbed the woman by the collar of her ragged clothes and tossed her against a rock wall. An evil smile creeped it's way across his face revealing the intentions he had for her. This woman would die a whore. Dropping his sword he foolishly lunged at the woman, but what he didn't realize was that this was the moment Sydney had been waiting for. Withdrawing both swords he leaped off the edge of the cliff, slicing the bandit in half, killing him instantly before he touched the ground.

Both swords reflected beautifully in the hot sun. One was a gorgeous ebony, while the other was as crimson as the blood he had splattered on the ground. Enraged the other five men ran at the skilled fighter thinking of nothing but killing the man who had dealt death to a man of their own. Impaling one of the bandits he swung the blade in his free hand decapitating another attacker. He ripped the ebony sword out of the bandits' sternum and flung it at another oncoming attacker impaling him through the throat. Within two seconds, three of the six original bandits had died by his hand (not counting the first one he had chopped in half).

A mixture of awe and fear overcame the two bandits left standing, it had to have been a fluke. There was no way a man of that caliber would be traveling amongst the poor. Not thinking they both ran at Sydney with swords in hand ready to kill at any moment. Retrieving his ebony blade he dashed at the bandits with both weapons at the ready. Before the bandits could think of swinging their swords, Sydney had plunged both blades into the abdomens of the unrighteous men who now lay dead before him.

Sheathing both swords he approached the woman cowering against the rock wall for her life. Her eldest son bobbed his way to his mother still holding the infant in his small arms. A smile found its way across Sydney's face as he moved his lips to speak, "I'd say were roughly, 5 miles away from Lohan, and there's no way I'll be able to fix this carriage." The bandits had done a number on it making the broken wheel look like an easy fix. "Feel free to tag along with me if you want, but I'd suggest not bringing anything you won't need. Five miles may seem short, but it's the middle of the day, n all its' gonna' do is get hotter."

Turning his back toward the woman he approached the down caravan and found his brown satchel amongst the wreckage. Opening it he went through his things making sure nothing was tampered with. He sighed, "It's still here. Dipping into the satchel he withdrew a red stone that shined bright to his touch. A magical item given to him as a child he never could imagine parting ways with it. It was something that he was attached to almost as if it was tugging at the depths of his soul.

Without saying a word, he flipped the satchel over his shoulder and began to walk the direction the caravan was heading in. "Wait!" the woman yelled as she ran toward Sydney with the infant back in her arms, the elder son stood shyly beside her with his eyes facing the rocky desert surface. "Look, I never got a chance to thank you for what you've done. If I had anything to give you…"

Sydney laughed, "Now what kind of man would I be if I took somethin' from a single mother and her children." The woman smiled weakly, and Sydney continued, "But a few companions to talk to would help."

"I appreciate everything you did! My sister lives in this city, so if there's anything we can ever do just let us know!" The mother yelled as she walked deeper into the merchant city of Lohan. Sydney looked at the sun, it was mid-afternoon, so nightfall would soon be approaching. He had a few gold pieces, enough to afford a few nights stay at the inn, including the cost for food and such. Tired, he made his way through the maze of rickety stairs and creaky wooden decks.

It didn't take him long to find the inn since it was the northernmost structure in the city. Lohan was all one large building consisting of three stories (including the ground floor). There were three wings, the east wing, west wing, and the northern wing, all having bridges connecting to either-or's opposite side. Simply enough he opened the door to the inn finding a seat in the crowded, dusty bar almost immediately.

Nearing the end of the day the tourists had all but left; leaving the crowd to consist of local single men and women who had finished working, and were looking to unwind. Used to travelers, many of the patrons decided to leave Sydney to himself, not wanting to cause any trouble after another hard day in the sun. A waitress approached the traveler, "Can I help…you…" her sentence trailed off.

Sydney looked up; her midnight-black hair drifting into bouncing curls, and gorgeous green eyes, it had to be her. She looked so unfamiliar in an apron and ragged servants' garments. Sydney gasped, "Elisea…"


	3. Chapter 3

**The Legend of Dragoon: Black Resurrection**

Chapter 2

"I never thought that I would see you again," Elisea said as her and Sydney stood outside the inn overlooking the city of Lohan. "It's been five years since that day, and I swore that I would never speak to you again, and yet, here I am." She leaned against the guardrail propping her head on her bent arms and staring blindly into the decreasing crowd of people as nightfall approached.

Sydney sighed, "Not one day has gone by that I don't remember the day that you left. I can't say that I'm sorry for what I've done, but I've tried to pay reparations for my sins one day at a time."

"So why did you come here?" Elisea asked in a vicious tone as she whipped to face her once best friend, "Is it to ask for my forgiveness? If so you're sadly mistaken."

Chuckling Sydney replied, "Shit, I could care less if you forgive me or not." He was lying of course, but he had no way of expressing his true emotion besides staying cool, calm, and collected. "Your father's dead Elisea, he never quit blaming me for being the reason why you ran away. He loathed me to his last breath."

"So you want me to feel sorry for you then."

"Feel sorry?" He asked as he leaned against the wooden wall. "Why feel sorry for a broken man, I killed one of our own out of pure anger. Not a day goes by that I don't regret killing him, an innocent man. I was already an outcast of our tribe, and it made me feel more exiled than I do now. So honestly, even if you did sympathize, I would tell you to shove it up your ass and leave me be."

"Then why don't you leave?"

"I can't, not until I fulfill a man's dying wish."

"Dying wish?" Elisea questioned shrilly.

"He wanted me to give you this note," Sydney opened his satchel and withdrew a letter addressed to Elisea in scribbled handwriting. "I never opened it, and why he entrusted it to me, I have no idea."

Angry Elisea snatched away the envelope and opened it quickly. It had been five years since she had heard her father's voice, and she would never hear it again. This added more frustration to her conscience, more blame to the man that had destroyed everything to her. But yet, she strangely missed him, not a day had gone by she had thought of what he'd done above all else. "Why didn't you open it? You've had such a long journey, and probably a one in a billion chance of finding me."

"Because I never gave up on finding you, I knew eventually I would no matter how much it hurt. Plus, I think it was this stone," Sydney withdrew his red stone which shined brightly in his hand, brighter than anytime it had shined before. "It's seemed to've become one with my thoughts, and the closer I came to you, the more it reacted." Swiftly entering the inn once again, he left Elisea alone with her note, he knew she needed some time to herself, alone, with her father.

_To my daughter,_

_ If you've received this, then Sydney was successful in his journey of finding you. To touch base, I know you're angry with Sydney for what he did to our tribe, just like I was, but nearing my death I've learned to forgive him of his crimes, for he has surely paid for them. I was troubled and angered that you left, and I blamed the child for many years of what he'd done, but now I realize that the past is the past, and the only thing to do is to move forward._

_ When we bury our dead, we bury them, not continuously resurrect them with hope that they'll be the same as before. They're dead, nothing more, nothing less. But as I look back on it, I believe Sydney is truly innocent of the crime. I must've known from the beginning but was too foolish to realize the truth of what happened. His mannerisms, everything about him doesn't make him out to be a killer of his friends, I was just stubborn to the truth, and that alone destroyed him._

_ I've heard him cry in his sleep, the nightmares of what happened truly plague his mind as a demon in disguise. The last time I spoke to you, it was done loudly and violently, you wanted revenge for what he did to the third of your party, and in your eyes, I refused to act on it. I'm sure you're as beautiful as your mother who died so long ago, and my dying wish consisted of two things, the delivery of this letter, and to see your face for one last time. Two polar opposites when you think about it, but I at least know that one of my wishes came true. But I must tell you this:_

_ Remember the stones you and Sydney were given so long ago? I once heard a myth of a group of revolutionaries who carried those stones, and were known to unleash an unstoppable force amongst their foes. Once again another group came across them, and it was rumored that they alone destroyed "The Moon that Never Sets". It's been two-hundred years since then, and the world has continued to revolve, and expand as the races who were once enemies have combined to live in peace._

_ In Serdio, there lies a ruin known as the Shrine of Shirley which is known to house the ghost of a past revolutionary who liberated the human race so long ago. I feel as if the destruction of time is upon us, and what you and Sydney hold may be keys to the salvation that'll deliver us from complete annihilation. I cannot die in peace knowing that something so destructive is upon us as species of this planet. I've heard the cries of the wind, and you and Sydney may be the ones to ride its tears to a brighter future._

_Forever my daughter, I will always love you,_

_Slaven Erna_

Sydney watched the hot sun as it rose over the horizon. Merchants had begun opening their shops to get an early start for the day, hoping to catch unexpected customers in their wake. Sipping a coffee, Sydney lit his morning cigarette, and exhaled it into the dry desert air. He had no idea what he was going to do since he did what the old man told him to do. Elisea still shared a deep loathing for him as her father did, and most likely would never want to speak to him ever again after last night.

As a nomad he was used to having nowhere to go, but for the first time in his life it kicked him in the nuts. He was unwanted by his former tribesman, and even though he enjoyed his travels, nowhere was worth settling down to him. Taking another drag of his cigarette, all he knew how to do was walk and fight, he could barely even read. _But what is this stone?_ He questioned himself as he sat his coffee on the edge of the deck and withdrew his stone. Just the fact that it led him to Elisea was a feat on its own, almost as if there was a connection between the two.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Sydney pocketed the stone and picked back up his coffee. Ashing out his cigarette he twisted around to face Elisea. She looked attractive in all black, including her leather armor and battle skirt, fingerless gauntlets, form fitting boots, and a black bandana tied around her head matching the mysteriousness of her dark hair. Each individual finger fitted its' own pick making her nails look like the talons of an eagle. But the most noticeable thing about her besides her wondrous figure was the guitar strapped to her back. The body of the guitar was the shape of a "V" unlike any he had ever seen in his life. It looked sexy, and even deadly on her hourglass frame.

"Why would it matter to you? I've done my part and played the messenger boy," Sydney replied coldly lighting up another cigarette. He tossed the match off the edge of the railing and turned once again to face the ever-growing traffic of shoppers and merchants below.

_So he didn't read the letter_ Elisea pondered. She wanted to take her guitar he beat him to a pulp with it, but with all her restraint, it kept her from doing so. "You know my father forgave you in the end."

"Sounds like the ramblings of an old man."

"Why did you do it?

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Sydney replied taking a drag of his cigarette, nervously drumming his fingers against the railing.

"WHY DID YOU DO IT!" Elisea roared, loud enough for some to stop and stare for if only a moment. "In the note, he said you were innocent!" Tears began to stream from her eyes as the torment of her emotions toyed with her even further.

"So he knew then," Sydney chuckled exhaling another breath of smoke. "Then I have a question for you. What would you do if someone did something so horrible that the only way to preserve their vanity was to kill them and cover it up with a lie afterwards?"

"What do you mean?"

"Durgis was a traitor to the tribe, but he was our best friend. As much as I hated him for what he did, there was no way I could let the tribe know that he had died selling us out to a group of slavers." Tears began to form in his eyes, "So I killed him in cold blood, and instead took the blame for his untimely death. Now I look back on it and I see why Chief Erna never killed me on the spot."

"All these years I never knew that you'd been carrying that weight," Elisea was shocked to finally understand the truth. Instead of feeling resentment toward Sydney, she felt it directed at herself. "He was my first love, why would he do something like that?"

_'Cause some are weaker than others _Sydney wanted to say. _Some believe the lies of men and would rather better themselves rather than those they claim to love. I don't know, I've spent the past 5 years thinking about it and I still haven't come up with an answer. _"I honestly don't know Ellie."

Ellie, she hadn't been called that in so long all it did was bring back painful memories, memories of her screaming at her father wanting Sydney's death for what he had done. One mistake (which wasn't even a mistake) caused her to leave, and lose almost everything. She took out her black stone which glowed brighter than it had ever glowed before, maybe because she was closer to Sydney now than she had ever been. Her father mentioned that the stones were probably the ones of legend.

She wanted to speak and forgive him, to apologize for what she'd done. But for the first time words couldn't leave her lips. She couldn't be mad at him for the sake of being mad at him, there was no reason. Placing her right hand on Sydney's back, she drew closer to him with tears in her eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Legend of Dragoon: Black Resurrection**

Chapter 3

"His name is Haven your highness."

"Haven you say?" King Carlo II replied as he sat in the garden of "The Shana Home" in the bustling town of Seles.

"Sire, imagine how this would look politically," one of his green-cloaked advisors mentioned in a hushed tone.

Coolly, King Carlo II answered, "Yes Magistrate, but either way I'm still the king of Serdio, and I am sure my closest advisors and followers would understand that I need a successor for when I pass on."

"Your highness, I understand, but the people…"

"The people will what? Revolt? Protest?" Carlo interrupted brushing away his light brown hair which he had inherited from his ancestors. "Two-hundred years ago, a man of non-royal blood saved one of our past kings, and his name is revered as not only a hero, but a community, a city _named_ 'Lavitz'."

Carlo arose from the bench which he was seated, and strolled through the garden to a bush of red roses with the magistrate following closely behind. "Roland," Carlo kneeled to the ground and glanced at his magistrate, his closest advisor, "many consider the rose to be _only _a flower, but I think of it as a whole lot more than what it may seem. If anything, it is a true comparison to the structure of human life."

"All the normal eye can see is the rose and the beauty in which it embodies. But no one understands the intricate details of growing a flower such as this. Think of the soil as the working class of peasants that allow us to have the luxuries that we have today. Without the proper soil in the first place, the seeds of our past would never have had the opportunity to blossom into the beautiful roses that you and I see before us. And also, none of this would have ever existed."

Carlo rose upright and motioned toward the beauty the garden had to offer. Not only were there roses, there were bright daisies accompanied by rather large daffodils and tulips. Warm sunflowers brought more life to the garden, and many cherry trees blossomed in a sea of pink rising slightly higher than the heads of the king and his advisor, Roland. He was sick of listening to Carlo's useless babble on the romantics of life, it would mean nothing in a world such as this.

The matron of the orphanage approached Carlo with an exhausted smile, "I don't mean to interrupt your highness," she curtsied with as much grace as she had to offer, "but are you still interested in adopting Master Haven?"

Carlo chuckled, "You may skip the pleasantries Madame Lavonte."

"Yes sir," Madame Lavonte replied blushing at the cheeks. "I hope I'm not speaking out of line here, but I wanna' offer my deepest condolences to you and the royal family your highness."

"How dare y-"

"Your condolences are much appreciated Madame Lavonte," Carlo interrupted, using his right hand to silence Roland. It was still a hurtful memory that Carlo begged heartily to forget. His loving wife had died 6 months prior during childbirth, and sadly, the infant was stillborn. Still grieving the death of his wife and firstborn child, he decided it was impossible for him to ever marry again, but yet the halls of Indels Castle remained too silent for his tastes, and it was time for a change.

So he began traveling to multiple orphanages all over the continent of Endiness, and to no avail, none seemed worthy of providing an heir to the throne of Serdio. Then he met Haven, an eight-year-old boy who was as compassionate as he was intelligent. Carlo had knew that he had found his future heir when the child up and told the King of Serdio to not step on the roses when most would shrug and continue with their daily business. His grades were above average, and though he was mostly skin and bones, Carlo knew for a fact that one day Haven would be able to protect the kingdom from both enemies foreign and domestic.

"May I have a conversation with my future son privately before I adopt him? I don't think him and I have had a _real_ conversation since we have met." Madame Lavonte curtsied once again and left the garden heading toward the wooden doors of the orphanage. Shortly she appeared with the dark brown haired ragged of a boy by the name of Haven.

"Please leave us Roland, I will meet you back at the carriage soon," Carlo ordered. Roland bowed his way out of the garden, rolling his eyes disrespectfully once out of Carlo's sight. "Would you like to have a seat my child?"

"Are you here to adopt me sir?" Haven asked as he pierced a hole through Carlo's soul with his light hazel eyes. "I hate to be disrespectful, but I'd rather know now rather than getting my hopes up."

Carlo laughed heartily and rubbed the child's dark brown hair, "Straight and to the point, I like that in a young man. But I have a simple question young master, what is the most important part of this rose?"

Haven bit his finger and stared at the rose that Carlo was clearly pointing at. Haven sighed and answered, "What's more important is not the rose itself, but the nutrients and the water that allows it to grow in the first place your highness."

Eighteen years later he was known as the greatest scythe-master in all of Endiness given the title "Archangel of Haven". King Carlo II believed that a great king needed to have a militaristic prowess about him which allowed him to not rule with an iron fist, but compassion for his fellow countrymen. The Knights of Lavitz were King Carlo II's greatest war asset, and had been for nearly 180 years. The city in which they originated was known as a stronghold back during the great Serdian War 200 years prior. King Albert named the once-known Fort Hoax "Lavitz" after his greatest knight, and closest friend.

Even though Lavitz had blossomed into a beautiful and diverse city, it still housed the training grounds of Serdio's most elite and prestigious knighthood. Many of the Serdian knights were recommended to train in Lavitz, but very few were selected as righteous candidates. At first Haven was frowned upon by his fellow brothers in arms for being royalty, but after seeing his skill, their qualms ceased to exist as if they had no right to complain in the first place. He had worked hard like every other man to get where he was, ten years of constant training and mental strain had seemed to have pulled off.

The green stone glistened in the sunlight as it dangled from Haven's neck, the royal heirloom given to every future Serdian king. Everytime he placed his hand on it, it would shine bright, adding more mysteries and question to what the stone actually was. Rising up from his solid mattress, he stepped over to his window overlooking the bustling city of Lavitz. The historical presence of the former Hoax remained untouched in the city's heart. Above that floated the wingly colony of Atmos, suspended as if untouched by the wind.

He found it strange how wingly and human culture could combine together. The magical prowess of the winglies allowed for numerous and enormous technological advances which in a way made humans seem inferior. Haven never considered the winglies a threat, but greatly understood how they dominated all other creatures a many millennia ago. Until 200 years ago they were believed by the human populace to be extinct. Suddenly they began integrating into human culture thanks to their ambassador, an old friend of King Albert's named Meru Agla.

Haven knew of three different classes of winglies: the honorable, modern, and radical. The honorable class were known to be friendly to other species, but remained in their own settlements, shut out from the rest of the world. The modern class integrated into mixed race society, and even added their magical knowledge to better the world around them. Lastly were the radical winglies, easily mistaken as the honorable class, but instead thrived on the ideals that they were superior to all living things, and deserved to rule like gods of the past.

His thoughts continued to wander as he left the elegantly carved, concreted barracks. They were different from the housing of normal soldiers and knights, instead each member of the Knighthood of Lavitz had their own accommodations', spacious rooms where they could have privacy (something he was never used to even during his childhood years). King Carlo II, Haven's adoptive father had come to the thriving city to overlook its' security, and the battle strategy against a rising revolutionary group located in the northern Serdio mountains.

Compared to the rest of the world, he was one man, walking in a crowd of nameless faces and shadowed facades. Intelligent he was, and his battle skills were considered artwork by many of his colleagues, but he never understood how one man could lead so many people. Decisions would be made, and with every decision there would always be disagreements. Haven never saw himself as a politician, at times he didn't consider himself a knight, a soldier even; instead he had no clue who or what he was. As a child he felt abandoned and lonesome, but was surprised when he was adopted by the King of Serdio.

His leaf-green cloak, and long dark-brown hair waved in the cool breeze as he found himself walking into a shop of grand and magical decour. The various, mysterious objects gleamed off his steel plate mail stained with specks of green, and a large portrait of a lion roaring marking him as a Knight of Lavitz.

"Is there an issue with your scythe Haven?" a female wingly peeped from across the room. She stood from her seat behind the counter and gracefully walked over to Haven, her platinum hair glistening in the neon lights of the magical items surrounding her. The clothes she wore were fine to every intricate detail, but yet subtle to her small frame, it was normal for many winglies to dress this way. Multiple jewels and trinkets alike dangled from her body, from the necklace draped around her neck, to the piercings in her ears. Sometimes Haven found himself in this store for no reason at all.

"Siri," Haven breathed taking in the air of the beauty that surrounded this woman. He unstrapped the black pole on his back, and instantly a beam of green energy slowly emerged from the tip forming the shape of a blade. "I have to leave here soon my lady, but I always find myself in here."

Siri giggled and pulled her hair into a ponytail, "Well, while you're in here, I might as well look at it and make some adjustments. I mean it is _my_ design." She snatched away Haven's scythe and slung it over her shoulder, "Just follow me back here, we can talk."

He followed her to the back of the store to the more unorganized back room. Siri set the device on her workbench, and turned to face the man who had followed her. Yellowish-orange eyes of this wingly intimidated and mystified him as they always had. Both sets of lips locked in a short embrace which felt like an eternity. She floated off the ground as her transparent wings escaped the confines of her clothing. Upon separating she slowly flitted back to her feet, her wings disappearing into thin air. Her cheek rested on his chest as her arms found their way around his neck. Cursed he was to find love from something of not his own species; he wrapped his arms around her hips and guided her to the floor.


End file.
